After some of these days, I'd give a lot for a quick, mindless read.

James Patterson? 

Nick Sparks?

Can't do it.

But every once in a while a book is pressed upon me and "page-turner" passes someone's lips. And once in a great while I pluck that book from the pile and put it to my usual the-first-paragraph-better-be-good-or-I'm-outta-here test. A few minutes later and -- surprise! -- off to Goodwill it goes.

The other night, I stacked the wood high in the fireplace, set out a stack of books that their publishers swore I'd love, poured a short glass of a top-grade warming fluid, and picked up Temptation, by Douglas Kennedy, a popular novelist completely unknown to me.